


i think about your face from time to time

by justalittlebluetiefling



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, POV Bellamy Blake, about kissing a guy in paris to pretend to have a romantic time, based off that one tweet, clarke is super cute the entire time AS SHE SHOULD BE, i meant for this to be a oneshot oops, kind of angst, kind of fluff, kinda sorta they're both here for study abroad, shoot i don't remember how to tag things anymore oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlebluetiefling/pseuds/justalittlebluetiefling
Summary: Bellamy meets Clarke at the Eiffel Tower while they're both studying abroad in Paris. Clarke wants to be able to pretend she had a romantic time.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	i think about your face from time to time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/KristianaKuqi/status/1190355818811711488) tweet.
> 
> This was supposed to be a oneshot, but I changed my mind. I'm sort of working on the next chapter. No promises on a schedule. I know who I am. This will end up being either two or three chapters, depending on inspiration.

Bellamy’s semester abroad was _supposed_ to be in Rome, but due to administration issues he didn’t want to try to understand, he ended up in Paris. He’s not mad about it; it isn’t like France doesn’t have its own brand of interesting history, but it wasn’t his childhood obsession. It means he feels more like a tourist than a history student on an epic educational journey on his weekends.

He’s at least able to take the train down to Rome for a couple of weekends, which is _almost_ as good.

Going to the Eiffel Tower felt too touristy when he first arrived. He finally caves on his last weekend in town, because there’s an art walk nearby that his roommate told him about and Octavia would kill him if he didn’t have any pictures of the Eiffel Tower up close. When he gets there, he’s a little annoyed to discover that he is much more interested in going up to the top than he expected.

The crowd almost makes him regret it. If the view from the second floor weren’t so gorgeous, he might be tempted not to go all the way to the top. But this is a once in a lifetime trip. His only chance. So, he sucks it up and waits in line. He _tries_ not to hide in his phone. He really does. But the line is long and he doesn’t want to stare at a spot on the wall, so he starts scrolling through Instagram to kill the time.

That’s why he almost jumps out of his skin when a quiet voice next to him says, “Doesn’t it feel like this entire thing is engineered toward couples?”

Bellamy manages not to drop his phone. Barely. He glances over to find a very cute blonde woman staring up at him expectantly. She’s wearing a pretty blue sundress and sandals with a thin sweater draped over her folded arms and her eyes twinkle with delight. Her grin grows wider with each second it takes him to formulate a response.

“Maybe I’m here with someone,” he finally says.

She smirks. “I’m sure they’re thrilled with the amount of attention you’re paying them.”

“I never said I was a good boyfriend.”

The woman giggles and smiles down at the ground.

“How do you know I’m not reading a very important email for work and my partner is… over there somewhere? Maybe I’m holding our place in line.”

“Maybe.” She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “You _do_ give off major workaholic vibes.”

“I give off vibes?”

She shrugs, still smiling. “Sorry for interrupting. I was feeling a little outnumbered by all this romance for a second. I’ll let you get back to your… work, if you want.”

“No way,” he says too quickly and he knows it, but he doesn’t really care. “You have to tell me about these _vibes_ I’m sending out to the world. Maybe you’ll help me unlock the mystery of why I can’t get anyone to date me.”

It’s somehow enough to make her laugh. And stay.

He learns that her name is Clarke. She’s twenty-two, bi, and going back to New York in two weeks. She loves Degas with every fiber of her being. She took a gap year between getting her bachelor’s and going to medical school, but instead of relaxing, she applied for an art fellowship here in Paris. She laughs when he calls her an overachiever.

She has a really nice laugh.

If this were four months ago, when he _wasn’t_ leaving in three days, he’d be so fucking gone for her already. Thank god he knows he can’t ever see her again. It makes the whole thing simpler.

By the time they’re one group away from the elevator, they’ve decided that they’re both perpetually single for many of the same reasons.

  1. They’re both too focused on school to give a significant other enough attention.
  2. They’ve both had exactly two serious relationships: one painful breakup and another relationship that ended so uneventfully, it feels like it never existed in the first place.
  3. They both agree that while sex can be nice, it’s much nicer to go home to their own apartments and do whatever the fuck they want instead of having to take someone else’s wants and needs into consideration.



“If I want to eat three-day-old Thai food in my sweats and swear at the Great British Baking Show, I want to do that without someone judging me.”

Bellamy can’t help it. He dissolves into laughter. “I have so many questions about the mental image you’ve given me.”

“Ask away.” Clarke sticks her chin out defiantly, like she’s had to defend this point to multiple people.

“One. You swear at the Great British Baking Show?”

She raises her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“They’re all so… nice.”

“It’s a _competition_ , Bellamy.”

“Whatever you say.” He grins. He likes the way it sounds when she says his name. It makes his stomach flip in a way that doesn’t suck. “Okay, question two. Why is this Thai food specifically three days old?”

Clarke shrugs. “The portions they give you in the states are ridiculous. And I live alone. And I’m busy.”

“Fair enough. Question three. How unwashed are these sweats?”

She pretends to contemplate the answer for a moment and Bellamy is struck once again in the light of the almost-setting sun by how beautiful she is. He has to shake himself when she starts speaking and only catches the tail end of the sentence. Something about “… time to do laundry on a full course load,” so he just smiles and hopes she doesn’t notice.

“Final question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why would anyone try to tell you that’s not the _pinnacle_ of sexiness right there?” Clarke glares at him and he raises his hands defensively. “I’m completely serious. It’s….”

Bellamy trails off. Clarke is fun to talk to and under ordinary circumstances, he would most likely censor himself or be too stunned by her inner and outer beauty to be able to admit that he’s into her. But they’re both here right now, both from different cities, and they’ll never see each other again after this. He didn’t exactly intend to tell her that he thinks the mental image of her watching Netflix and eating takeout in her sweats is sexy, but he can’t make himself regret the slip.

 _Fuck it_. “Listen. I don’t need to defend my opinion, but the whole—” he gestures a hand at her “—image of that is pretty hot. It’s domestic.”

She blinks. “You’re into… domestic?”

Bellamy shrugs, his cheeks heating. “Yeah. You’re not?”

“No, I definitely am.” She drops her gaze to the floor and drags her toe in a semicircle. “It’s just not something I ever thought I should put in my Tinder bio. Maybe I should, though.”

He’s spared from having to think of a way to respond by the attendant telling them they can get into the elevator. They make the ride in silence.

When they get to the top floor, he sort of expects her to do her own thing, but he can still feel her presence by his side as he wanders toward one of the corners. They really lucked out. The sun is setting, bathing the city in pinks and oranges and purples and Bellamy is suddenly thrilled that he decided to come here after all. The view from Sacre Couer was beautiful, he kind of thinks it might be better, but he didn’t see that at sunset.

He’s about to say this to Clarke when she tugs at his elbow. She points to her right. Painted on the floor are the words: place to kiss.

“I told you,” she whispers. “This is an experience for couples.”

“Well, you started talking to me in line. People probably assume we’re here together, so you’re safe.” He gasps dramatically, putting a hand to his heart. “You only talked to me in line so you would fit in up here.”

She grins and pushes his arm playfully. “Of course. What did you think? That I thought you were cute or something?”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were so mean.”

He smiles and tries to turn his attention back to the view, but she taps his arm again.

“I’m trying to enjoy this tourist trap for couples, Clarke,” he mutters.

“I’ll let you in a second. I have a request.”

Bellamy tries to look annoyed, but it’s hard to keep the smile from his face when he looks at her again and her cheeks are pink.

“The light is just so nice,” she says, her voice shakier now. “I was wondering if… would you kiss me here? And let someone take a picture?”

His eyes go wide and he swallows hard in spite of himself. So much for being cool in front of the hot girl.

“If you don’t want to or think it’s weird, it’s not a big deal. But it would be nice to have something to show off and pretend I had a romantic time in Paris. You know, like people are supposed to.”

‘Of course’ seems too desperate. ‘Hell yes’ seems too enthusiastic. So all he says is, “Yeah. Sure.”

Clarke manages to pull aside a nice older woman who is more than happy to help and hands off her phone. She and Bellamy smile at each other a little awkwardly, but have already agreed that it’ll look weird if they hesitate too much.

It means his heart is pounding, maybe harder than it would be under normal circumstances, maybe not, as he cups her cheek and she sets her hands on his waist and he ducks down to press his lips to hers. Clarke is fully blushing when she pulls back and it’s over too soon, but their helper is smiling.

Before the woman can step away, he says, “Wait. Do you mind taking one for me, too? She’s so bad at sending me pictures.”

Clarke tries to discretely elbow him on their way back to the marker and he grins down at her this time.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I know you didn’t ask for me to kiss you twice.”

“I don’t mind,” she says quietly.

This time, her fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and she makes a little noise in the back of her throat that makes Bellamy want to press his hand into the small of her back. But he resists.

They thank the woman again when she gives Bellamy his phone and she tells them more than once what an adorable couple they are before she goes back to her family. Clarke tugs him further away from the spot and they settle in against the railing again.

“Thanks for doing that,” she says. Her voice is smaller than it was before. Almost sad.

“It was definitely not a chore,” Bellamy says, a little surprised to hear her sadness mirrored in his own voice. “Plus, I deserve to be able to show off a romantic time in Paris, too.”

That makes her smile. “You definitely do.”

They stay up there until the sky goes dark and the city lights up, taking pictures from each side. Bellamy keeps expecting her to have to leave. They aren’t talking anymore, but he’s enjoying her company and he doesn’t want her to go. _He_ doesn’t want to go.

But… they aren’t the only two people in the world. Eventually, her phone dings and she admits she’s supposed to meet her roommate for dinner in a half hour. He doesn’t feel any reason to stay without her, so he follows her onto the elevator.

Part of him wants the first elevator to stall. It doesn’t, so he spends the second elevator ride down to the ground wishing for the same thing. When they step out into the real world again, they’ll go their separate ways. She’ll be going back to New York. He’s going back to Chicago. This was an amazing moment, nothing more, but it feels like he’s losing something after only two hours.

He shoves his hands into his pockets when they walk outside. “Is it weird if I ask if you’re okay walking alone at night?”

“It’s only two blocks away. It’s very well-lit the entire way there. I promise.”

Bellamy nods, his heart twisting. “Well. It was nice to meet you, Clarke.”

“It was nice to meet you, too, Bellamy.” She smiles sadly. “Thanks for giving me something I can trick my friends and family with.”

“Ditto,” he says, laughing in spite of himself.

They stand in silence for a few seconds before Clarke takes a step closer. “One more for the road?”

Bellamy barely finishes nodding before she grabs the back of his neck and kisses him much harder than she did before. He rocks back on his heels, the momentum pulling her into his chest, but they recover fast enough. If he weren’t leaving so soon, he might be more embarrassed about making out with a stranger in front of a major landmark, but who cares anymore? He certainly doesn’t. Not while he can press his palm into the small of her back this time and she digs her fingers into his hair. Fuck, he’ll kiss her for as long as he can.

Which, it turns out, isn’t long enough.

Again, her phone dings and she’s breathing hard when she breaks the kiss, smoothing his hair instead of stepping out of his space. “If I didn’t have to meet her, I’d… I don’t know.”

“You’d what?” He runs his thumb along the line of exposed skin at the base of her shirt and she shivers against him.

“Turning this into a one-night stand would make it less romantic, wouldn’t it?”

Bellamy grins. “I knew you only talked to me up there because you think I’m cute.”

“Well, obviously it was all about your hair.” She runs her fingers through his hair one more time before she takes a step back. “Thank for giving me an unforgettable experience. Bellamy.” She smiles sweetly. “I’ll always think of you fondly.”

“That’s because you didn’t have enough time to actually get to know me.”

She laughs quietly and takes another step back. “Maybe.”

There’s another tug at his heart when she finally turns away. He watches her until she disappears around the corner. He could have asked for her number, couldn’t he? But what would that have turned into? Long-distance flirtatious texts that inevitably lead to one of them ghosting the other? She’ll start med school in the fall. He’ll have to start writing his thesis in earnest as soon as he gets back, which means… they’d both get too busy for anything. Or one of them would meet someone else.

Or… or not.

Fuck.

He should have asked for her number.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://justalittlebluetiefling.tumblr.com/) and I think I'm pretty fun to hang out with.


End file.
